Crazy World
by Cutthroat Pixie
Summary: Spain/Romano: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.


Title: Crazy World  
Pairing: Spain/Romano  
Summary: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.  
Notes: Written for the Hetalia kink meme (http: // hetalia _ kink . livejournal . com)

* * *

Spain sat out on his front porch, rubbing his bruised shins and nose, and pouting. Why did Romano always have to be so uncute? It wasn't as if he'd done anything to warrant such abuse!

_"Romano~!" Spain had called out, entering his kitchen to find the younger boy cooking. "What're you doing here?"_

"What's it look like, asshole?" Romano just rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing, sparing not a single glance in the direction of the man whose house he was invading.

Spain chuckled and walked up behind Romano, resting his chin on his shoulder and looking down at the sauce boiling on the stove.

**Thwack!**

Spain pulled back, out of the way of Romano's spoon, and rubbed his nose. "That is so not cute, Lovi."

He sighed, looking back into the house, to the front room Romano had been in just moments before. The other nation had no doubt gone off to bed, a fact that Spain was just a little bit glad for. He had no idea why Romano had even bothered coming over that night since he was so very clearly in a bad mood... he laughed at that train of thought. "Romano's never in a good mood," he mumbled to himself.

_After dinner, Spain set about cleaning up the mess Romano had made. "You could help, you know," he said to Romano, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, munching on yet another tomato._

"Not your maid," he replied, flinging bits of juice out with his words.

Spain laughed. "I didn't say you were, but you made the mess..."

"I_ also made you dinner, you ungrateful ass."_

He laughed again, shrugging as he continued to clean the dishes filling his sink. "Next time I should have your brother cook me dinner, then, he'd be more than happy to-- Ow!_" Spain yelped in surprise at the sudden pain in his leg, bending down to rub the sore limb with soapy hands. "What was that for?"_

Needless to say, Spain's seemingly eternal good mood was dampened just a bit. He loved spending time with Romano, he honestly did, but he really would have preferred if it didn't hurt so much. Was that too much to ask?

He should have been used to the way Romano acted, and he was most of the time, but after a hard day of dealing with work, his boss, and the ridiculous amounts of paperwork that sometime came along with being a nation, he really would have preferred if the older Italy brother was just a bit nicer to him.

It was getting late, and Spain decided it was a good enough time to go to bed. He mumbled to himself as he got up. "Sometimes I wish you were more like your brother, Romano."

Little did he know, a shooting star passed by just then, blazing against the night sky Spain had his back to.

---

The next morning, Spain awoke to sunshine streaming through the window, the sound of birds chirping away merrily, and the delicious smell of something cooking downstairs.

That could only mean one thing.

"More dishes to clean," he groaned, pulling himself out of the lazy morning haze he had been in. He set about dressing himself, and just as he was starting to button up his shirt, a soft knock came at his door.

"Spain~?" The voice was most definitely Romano's, but the tone was... off, to say the least. Spain sent a confused look in the direction of the door, wondering if perhaps he was dreaming, mishearing, or insane. Any of the above was possible, really.

Spain must have went longer than he thought without saying anything, because Romano knocked again. "If you're still sleeping, it's fine, but breakfast is ready!" Another pause. Another confused look. "Okay, I'll keep it warm for you~." Footsteps were heard as Romano went back downstairs. Footsteps that sounded almost as if Romano were...

"No," Spain said, laughing nervously. "Romano doesn't skip."

Slowly, Spain made his way down to the kitchen, fully expecting to find a mess there for him to clean up. He was (pleasantly, of course) surprised to find the place absolutely spotless , with not one pot or pan thrown haphazardly into the sink. On the table, a tablecloth he didn't even recall owning was spread out, a vase of flowers and two plates full of eggs, tomatoes, and toast sitting atop to complete the picture perfect scene.

Just as he was about to go looking for Romano, who seemed to be missing, the boy jumped him from behind, wrapping his arms around Spain's neck and letting out a squeal of excitement. "There you are!" he cried, rubbing his face into Spain's hair. "I've been waiting for you all morning, I made breakfast and cleaned the kitchen and watered your garden and we should go out later, it's a really nice day..."

Spain stood there, stunned, as Romano rambled on and on, in a fashion akin the way his younger brother would normally speak.

After wondering briefly if Romano had hit his head or something, a thought struck him.

"Oh, I get it," he said, turning around to give Romano a sheepish grin. "You heard what I said last night somehow, yeah?"

Romano just smiled at him, a confused, vacant expression spreading across his face.

"Hm? What'd you say, Spain~?"

"You can stop now, I get it," Spain continued. "I'm sorry, I was just frustrated."

Romano's expression didn't change, and instead of laughing it off and returning to his normal self, instead of chastising Spain for wishing such a stupid thing, Romano grabbed Spain's hands and lead him over to the table.

"Breakfast time!" he said cheerfully. "I hope you like it, I worked really hard... but if you don't, that's okay! I'll just make something else. Do you want something else?"

"Uh." Spain sat down, looking up at Romano and finally returning the boy's smile. "No, it's fine, I'm sure anything you made is deli--"

Spain was cut off by another hug from the unusually exuberant Romano. Tears of joy ran down his face as he squeezed the life out of the poor man. "Oh good I'm so glad!"

Spain smiled again as Romano collected himself and sat down next to him. As he ate his breakfast, listening to Romano's endless chatter, he thought he could really get used to Romano being this cute all the time. It was a little weird, and he was certain Romano would stop at any moment, laughing at him for actually falling for the joke, but for now, he might as well enjoy it, right?

Wrong. He was so very, _very_ wrong.

"Spain Spain Spain!"

All the cute was starting to give him a headache.

"Spain~!"

"Yes, Romano?"

"I picked you a flower!"

Romano presented the plant to him, beaming, just as he had done the other seven times he'd seen fit to pluck something out of the ground and given it to Spain.

"Thank you, Lovi." Spain smiled back indulgently and added the blossom to his little collection.

Romano attached himself to Spain's arm, jostling the man, who really wasn't used to being on the receiving end of all this excited affection. The way Romano nuzzled his neck was just _so cute_, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"Ooooh! Look! A puppy!" Romano shouted right into his ear before running off to get closer to the couple walking their dog up ahead.

Spain groaned and rubbed at his now ringing ear. "Uh, Romano?" he asked tentatively. The boy turned around immediately upon hearing his name, that ever present grin gracing his features. Having his attention, Spain spoke again. "Lets go home, okay?"

Romano pouted slightly, giving the dog one last pet and the couple a goodbye, but he bounded right on over to Spain and latched onto him again. "Okay, whatever you want."

Relieved, Spain started to lead them back home. Unfortunately, the journey took longer than expected, as distractions seemed to be all about the landscape. Romano picked eleven more flowers, stared at a ladybug for five minutes, ran across a field to, "Get a better look at that cloud over there!", and chatted to seemingly everyone who passed by, all the while as cheerful as ever.

They weren't even halfway home and Romano had already run off again.

"Romano," Spain called out, voice tense and tired. "Come on, I want to go home."

Sensing the ever so slight tone of irritation in Spain's voice, Romano ran back over to him, jumping at him in tears. "I'm sorry, Spain!" he cried. "Don't be mad okay we'll go straight home, I won't do anything else!"

Spain immediately felt bad. "It's okay, Romano," he assured the boy, awkwardly stroking his hair. Romano had come crying to him before, of course, but it had never been... quite like this, to say the least. "Lets just go, I'll make us lunch."

That seemed to cheer Romano up immediately, as his tears suddenly stopped and he grabbed Spain's hand for the billionth time that day, dragging him as he ran off in the direction of Spain's house.

"You're so cute, Romano," Spain said, though to be quite honest, he wasn't quite as excited about said cuteness as he might have expected to be.

---

3:00 am. It was 3:00 am (the clock changed, flashing 3:01 am) and Spain was still awake. Not because he wanted to be, of course, or because he was up late doing anything important, but because of _Romano_. The younger nation had been bouncing around all night, insisting on playing games and cuddling and making gelato and more cuddling and talking talking talking. Eventually, he'd thrown off his clothes and jumped into Spain's bed, soft snores following almost immediately, and Spain was so tired, the usual perverse joy he might have felt at having a naked Romano in his bed was entirely absent.

Romano snuggled against him, mumbling happily in his sleep, apparently unable to keep quiet even in his sleep. Spain grinned sleepily and stroked the boy's hair, finally drifting off into much needed sleep.

The next morning, Spain was roused from slumber by the feel of soft lips on his neck. Barely awake, and not fully believing he wasn't still dreaming, he let out a cheerful sigh and moved closer to the warm mouth, delighted when the kisses continued to plant themselves all over his neck, past his shoulders, along his jaw.

"Morning, Spain~."

Oh yeah, he was definitely dreaming, Romano would never... wait.

He bolted upright before he fully had a chance to think the action through, falling out of the bed as a result of the sudden movement.

He looked up at Romano, back sore from the sudden impact with the floor, expecting (hoping?) that Romano would last out, call him an idiot, make fun of him for falling out of bed.

Instead, Romano gasped, tears filling his eyes. "I'm sorry I'm sorry! Are you okay?! Here, let me help you up!" Romano jumped out of the bed and pulled Spain to his feet, dusting him off before hugging him tightly. Spain just stood there, letting Romano cry and cling to him, and for the first time since this ordeal had begun, he was overwhelmed by how completely and utterly _wrong_ this felt.

It wasn't just that Romano had been, to put it lightly, annoying as all hell, because Romano was fully capable of being annoying in his own special way normally. It wasn't that he tired Spain out, or that he kept crying over everything. Just a few days ago, Spain would have gladly given anything to be so doted upon by Romano, would have loved the hugs, the kisses, and the general closeness Romano had been gifting him with since yesterday morning.

But this wasn't Romano.

The nation with his arms wrapped around Spain may have looked like Romano and sounded like Romano, may have responded to the name, but _his_ Romano, the Romano that Spain had grown to love, was not there. His fiery, grumpy, beautifully stubborn Romano was gone. All the fights and unspoken apologies, gone. All of Romano's odd little ways of showing he really did care, gone.

The affection was something he craved, but it just wasn't worth it if it wasn't followed by a series of insults, because, "Go away, bastard," had somehow become something akin to, "I love you," and goddamnit, Spain really wanted to hear it right now.

Romano kissed his cheek again and Spain pulled away, a deeply sated feeling of regret washing over him. This was somehow his fault, and he had no idea how to fix it, unless...

A horrible, awful, nasty, oh-god-he-couldn't-do-it, entirely necessary thought struck Spain. Before he could break away from the momentary insanity and change his mind, he rushed over to his wardrobe to get dressed. "I have a, uh, meeting, Romano, are you okay alone for awhile?"

Romano nodded, looking confused, and before he could say anything, Spain was rushing off, throwing on his clothes as quickly as he could, setting off to meet a possible death (at least in his mind), because to hell with everything else, he was going to get Romano back to normal.

---

Romano had caught him on his way out, delaying Spain's departure with his hugs and kisses and questions about when he would be back, but Spain had quickly gotten out of the embrace. And then he ran. And ran. He ran all the way to a house he would sorely have preferred not to be visiting, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and besides, it had been quite some time since the other nation had seen fit to beat him up...

"I'm coming, I'm coming," a voice came from inside the house, the irritation obvious in the tone almost making Spain give up on the silly idea. Almost, because Spain desperately needed help with this.

"I told you I was bus-- oh, hello, Spain." England's angry expression turned to a confused frown when he noticed who was at his door. Spain may have wondered who exactly England had told he was busy, but now was no time for that.

"I need your help," Spain responded, his voice sounding far more pathetic than he had intended. "You're the only one who does all that magic stuff..."

England sighed, looked at the watch on his wrist, and then stepped back, motioning for Spain to enter. Ever the gentleman, that England. "What can I do for you?"

"Romano is acting like Italy."

England raised an eyebrow. "Romano _is_ Italy."

"No no no, he's acting like _Veneziano_."

"Ah."

Spain stood there awkwardly for a moment, until England spoke again. "And you expect me to be able to fix that?"

"I wished he would," Spain started to explain. He told England about the wish the other night and the bizarre behaviour Romano had started to exhibit since the following morning. He left out his personal feelings on the matter, as he was fairly certain the other nation didn't need (or want) to hear him spill his soul to him.

"I see." England was suddenly all business, any signs of exasperation replaced with a serious demeanour. "Come with me, I know just what to do."

"What would that be?"

"You just need to make a stronger wish, to balance out the one you made before." He looked thoughtful. "Though it _is_ odd that just your words worked... are you sure there's nothing else this could be caused by?"

Spain shook his head. "I can't think of anything else."

"Then lets hope you're right."

England lead Spain down to his basement, a dark, chilly room that Spain hoped never to be in again. Once the light was flicked on, a collection of strange objects appeared: an alter, a plethora of candles, bottles and bags of strange looking substances. England promptly picked up one of the white candles. After a glance over at Spain, he smirked, setting the candle down, and picked up a pink one instead.

"You need to meditate before this can begin."

Spain opened his mouth to argue, but a stern look from England quieted him. England explained the simple relaxation ritual, and then Spain was sitting on the cold, hard basement floor, the candle was lit, and he set about clearing his mind, thinking only of the new wish he was to make.

_I wish Romano was back to normal_.

Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes, feeling a lot calmer than he had at any point in the last two days. While he had been completing the relaxation ritual, England had gathered a few more supplies for the next part of the spell.

Handing Spain a piece of parchment and an inked quill, England told him, "Draw a pentagram in the center of that." Spain looked at him blankly. "Upside down five-pointed star with a circle around it." England pointed up at a picture of the described shape hanging on the wall, and Spain nodded, completing the task carefully.

"Now draw a ying-yang symbol in the middle of that."

Spain took his time drawing the next part, not wanting his lack of artistic ability to screw up the spell.

For the next few minutes, Spain continued to follow everything England told him to do. His wish was written above the pentagram, the parchment was folded, and the paper was sealed with a few drops of the candle wax.

England held the candle out for Spain, who slowly turned the parchment over the flame, pulling it back once it was properly lit and letting the wish burn. "I wish Romano was back to normal," he said aloud, once, twice, three times. Once finished, he collected the ashes into a bag England had waiting for him.

"Spread the ashes somewhere special to you, preferably outdoors, and the spell should start working soon," England told Spain as they started walking back up the stairs into the main part of England's house.

Spain nodded and took his leave, briefly mumbling a thank you to the surprisingly helpful nation.

Now just to find the perfect place to spread the ashes.

---

It took Spain a good hour after he had gotten home to find the perfect spot to spread the ashes, but once he came to a conclusion, he felt silly for not realising it sooner. Slowly and deliberately, he spread the ashes along his tomato fields-- the fields he so often frequented with Romano, where the two nations had spent many a long, sunny day, gathering tomatoes, joking around, and just generally having a good time. A nostalgic feeling washed over Spain, and he internally hoped, wished, and prayed that England's spell would work, because he didn't want to go through a tomato harvest without his Romano, not ever.

That task completed, Spain debated whether or not he should head back into his house, eventually deciding to go inside when his stomach started to growl. Romano would be back to normal soon, he told himself. He could put up with this horribly out of character version of the boy for one more night.

As soon as he walked through the door, his arms were filled with a mass of excited Italian and kisses were planted all over his face.

"Spain Spain Spain, I missed you!"

"I miss you too, Romano," Spain mumbled into Romano's hair, ignoring the questioning about his choice of tense.

"I'm right here, how can you miss me, silly?"

_Oh, if you only knew_, Spain thought. Once the spelled kicked in and Romano returned to his same old self, he was _so_ going to kill Spain. Kill him and punch him and not speak to him for a good few days.

Spain couldn't wait.

That night, after dinner, Spain decided he really needed to retire early. If he went to sleep, perhaps he would wake up in the morning to find Romano returned to himself. He told himself that over and over again.

Romano, of course, followed Spain when he tried to make a sneaky escape up to his bed. Repeating the events of the previous night, he stripped and crawled under Spain's covers, snuggling up to one of the pillows while Spain changed into his pyjamas. He might not have bothered, but he really didn't want to push his luck, since he was so convinced that Romano was going to wake up with his usual personality, and both of them being naked in Spain's bed was just asking for a beating.

"Night, Spain," Romano whispered sweetly, cuddling against the other man once he too was under the bedsheets.

"Goodnight, Romano," Spain replied, closing his eyes and evening out his breath, desperate for sleep and the reprieve he hoped the next day would bring.

Fortunately for him, Spain fell asleep quickly, his heart and mind eased by the thought that he was probably going to be awoken by a very painful headbutt. Others might not find that comforting in the slightest, and Spain was probably insane for looking forward to it as much as he was, but then again, nobody quite enjoyed Romano the way Spain did.

He'd never ever take Romano for granted again, that was for sure.

That night seemed to stretch on, even after Spain had settled into his dreams. It was almost as if he felt every moment he waited, his dreams going on forever, bringing up old memories he had with Romano, making up possibilities of what was to come, conjuring nightmares of what may happen if the spell didn't work.

Even as he slept, he told himself over and over and _over_ that it would work, because Spain really couldn't handle it if Romano was permanently changed.

In the morning, Spain attempted to delay his waking as long as possible, wanting Romano to wake up first and get the ball rolling, needing to know as soon as possible when Romano woke up, his normal self, and realised what had happened the past couple of days. Knowing the younger nation like he did, he fully expected to be blamed for the occurrence, a fact he was entirely prepared to accept and make up for.

"Spain?" A sleepy mumble, muffled by a pillow, rang through the air, breaking the morning silence. Spain remained still, getting ready to be kicked from the bed at any moment.

He waited.

And waited.

But it never came. Instead, he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and his eyes shot open in horror.

"Morning, Spain~!"

---

"It's not working!"

"Hello to you, too."

Spain was locked in his bathroom, sitting on the floor, mobile phone clutched desperately in his hand as he hysterically shouted at England.

"You're going to have to be patient, magic doesn't always work just the way you want it to." England was slowly losing his own patience, and quite obviously so.

"But I _need him back right now._"

His pleas were met with silence.

Silence and the ring of a dial tone.

Spain shoved his mobile back into his pocket and continued to sit on the floor, head in his hands.

"Spain?" The soft voice was accompanied by a sharp knock on the bathroom door, and Spain briefly considered ignoring it, but the knocking just continued. "Are you okay? You've been in there for a long time, are you sick? Should I get you something? Can I--"

If only to end the tirade of questions, Spain got up and opened the door, smiling faintly at Romano's worried face. "Sorry, I'm fine. Bathroom's all yours if you need it." Romano didn't seem to understand that he was being dismissed, and Spain found himself pulled into one of the hugs that was (unfortunately?) starting to grow familiar. He patted Romano's back briefly and then pulled out of the embrace. "I'll go make breakfast."

Romano chirped an, "Okay!" in reply and followed Spain down the hall towards the kitchen, listing off everything they could possibly make for breakfast.

Much like he had the night before, Spain just kept telling himself that it would all be over soon. Romano seemed to sense that Spain was upset about something, but instead of leaving him alone and offering his own special brand of comfort when sought out, Romano just seemed more insistent on showering Spain with affection. The question of, "What's wrong?" rang constantly through the air, and though Spain did feel bad, he really did, when he started to ignore Romano, it was the only thing he could do, because this whole experience was driving him nuts.

"Spain, did I do something wrong?"

Those eyes that he so loved were looking up at him pitifully, unshed tears looking about ready to spill any second, and oh how he felt terrible.

"No, you didn't," Spain replied. Deciding they could both use a bit of comfort, he pulled the boy to him, initiating the hug so that perhaps he could imagine that things were already back to how they should be. "I'm sorry." Spain was so, so sorry, and not just for ignoring Romano, but for ever wanting anything other than what he was, even for a brief moment.

Romano was silent, for the first time in what felt like forever, and Spain savoured the moment, knowing that such an embrace would not come out without any fuss once this whole thing was put behind them, but unable to find fault in that fact, as it was Romano's stubborn attitude towards everything that made every little victory Spain did have all the more special.

With that thought, Spain drifted off into a melancholy sort of sleep.

He awoke, hours later, to the delicious kitchen smells that only cooking paella could make. Romano was gone, obviously the source of said cooking, and Spain got up to see how the boy was doing.

"Hi~!" It was still jarring, how cheerful Romano was acting, and it continued to be jarring, all through dinner, all through the very one-sided conversation.

After dinner, Spain found himself dragged outside to the front porch. Romano was excitedly rambling about how pretty the stars looked, how clear the sky was, how soft Spain's hands were, and oh did he use some sort of lotion?

Having apparently found the perfect spot to sit and star gaze, Romano pulled Spain down next to him on the soft grass of his lawn, only to continue talking at Spain about how lovely the plants all around Spain's home were looking.

"Ooh, Spain! A shooting star!" Romano shouted suddenly, pointing up at the sky. "Quick, make a wish!"

Spain gave Romano a startled look, then looked up at the star soaring through the sky.

Deciding it couldn't hurt, he made a wish.

---

That night's slumber seemed to find Spain caught in a nightmare. Endless hours and days and _years_, and that misplaced, half-hearted wish he didn't even really mean had totally taken over, and he never got Romano back. Unable to fix what he had done, his heart was left aching, and he was overcome with an eternal sort of self-loathing, everything all his fault.

It was all his fault.

He wasn't able to wake up, trapped in a horribly dark world where he loved and was loved back, but not in the way that he wanted, a world where everything was wrong despite the light that pervaded everything he did. Sunshine was hardly comparable to false, indoor light, even when it was hidden behind clouds. Romano being his just wasn't worth it if who Romano was got sacrificed.

_Wake up wake up_, he thought to himself frantically, though he was half-convinced this surreal world of unknown time was the real one.

His eyes felt wet, and oh didn't that make him feel stupid, because he just couldn't give up thinking things would go back to normal, and falling into despair would help nothing at all.

His own voice filled his mind, echoing, multiplying, screaming at him to get himself out of this nightmare, and over time the frantic tone slowly morphed into a far more irritated one... a familiar tone not belonging to Spain at all...

"Oi, asshole!"

Spain woke with a start, just as he was flying through the air, right on time to turn his face to the side to avoid breaking his nose against the wall he was rammed into.

"Why the fuck am I in your bed naked?!"

After sliding down the wall, Spain gathered himself up off the floor and just stared. At Romano. The Romano who was flustered and angry and breathing heavily and covering himself up with Spain's sheets.

Spain did the only thing he really could in this situation. He leapt at Romano, who just shouted in incoherent Italian, with a cry of, "_Gracias a Dio_, you're back!"

"And you're fucking insane, how drunk did you get last night?" Romano wrestled himself out of Spain's grasp and placed a hand on his forehead. "Or maybe you're sick. Either way, I have no idea what you're going on about."

Undeterred, Spain pulled Romano into another hug. He'd never been so happy to be pushed away! "_Lo siento_, Lovi, _lo siento mucho_, I love you just the way you are."

Romano just blushed more, looking confused. "I'm sure you do. Did you hit your head?"

Spain pulled back and looked at Romano's frustrated expression, realising that maybe, possibly Romano didn't remember the odd few days the two of them had been having. It seemed almost too perfect, but he wasn't complaining.

"Don't ever change, _mi tesoro_," he cooed when Romano punched him in the arm.

Eventually, Romano calmed down and put on some clothes, citing exhaustion when he collapsed back into Spain's bed. Spain was, of course, shoved away when he tried to get closer to Romano, but he just couldn't stop smiling.

He closed his eyes once more, and even though it was a crazy world for Spain and Romano, he knew, honestly, that he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
